Humanity Forbidden Island [Full Text] - 10

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Chapter 137:

The powerful anchor in the ravine had indeed come loose and was easily and smoothly retrieved by the engine. The boat, without anchor, remained motionless in the turbulent current, with only one outcome: grounding. The women behind me understood what was happening, some even shedding tears.

I looked up at both banks; the gorge was towering and majestic, with only a sliver of sky visible. "Cuckoo, howl!" Birds circled overhead, their calls echoing and reverberating through the mountains, lingering in my ears for a long time.

Luya stared blankly for a long time, then suddenly tried to run into the cabin. "Something's wrong! The mountain peaks are about to collapse!" The steep cliffs on both sides, covered with large trees, already leaned towards the river. At the thousand-meter-high peaks, it was difficult to see the sky unless the sunlight was dazzling. The two mountain rocks, like broad-bodied giants, were pressing their foreheads together, vying to look down at us.

Not only Luya, but I too was terrified by the sheer force of the storm. Those rocks leaning towards the deck, if weathered by time, could easily shatter a large boulder falling from seven or eight hundred meters; it wouldn't just hit a person

, it would instantly create a gaping hole in the deck. The small raft, like a loyal servant, hadn't been lost in the storm and was still pulling the stern along. It was hard to imagine how the large ship had been tossed about like this for two days and three nights during the flood. Even climbing the mast frame now, there was no way to see the way back. The mountain streams and gorges were incredibly winding.

To get a general idea of the ship's location, the only option was to climb to the mountain peak. This level of difficulty and height was far more challenging than simply climbing to the top of a cave. But no matter what, we had to climb the sloping rock face to reach the summit. The distance between the ship and the Ghost Monkey tribe was what worried and terrified me most.

Back in the cabin, I found the meat hooks I used to hunt crocodiles and untied all the ropes from the mast, tying them together to make climbing ropes. The mast, towering above the forest's center, now resembled a mushroom beneath a majestic, verdant mountain.

Armed with weapons and binoculars, and with a rope around my shoulder, I descended onto the swaying raft. Yi Liang's eyes were already moist. I told her to be strong and told Lu Ya to return to the deck; the two of them would provide sniper cover to prevent dangerous creatures from lurking in the woods while I climbed.

The ship was less than fifty meters from the right-hand cliff. Before the flowing muddy water could wash the raft away, I swung the grappling hook and snagged a large, leafy tree. Pulling the rope sharply, the sharp edges of the raft's edge chipped away at the freshly cut granite surface, and I leaped onto the tree.

Looking around, the trees, growing at a forty-five-degree angle, resembled the green hair of the mountainside. I felt as if I were pulling on the mane of this behemoth, struggling to climb to its top.

"Bang." A sniper rifle, I don't know whose on deck, fired at me as I used the grappling hook to climb to a height of sixty meters. A large, plump, grey mandrill on my left was shot and killed, plummeting down the steep cliff face.

Due to the treacherous rock face and the need to quickly ascertain the distance to the monkey tribe, I had to lower my guard and concentrate on climbing. The mandrill let out a scream after being shot, its falling body swaying wildly through the treetops.

Clinging to the tree with both hands, my neck moving slowly, I only caught a glimpse of its long, fleshy red nose amidst its white and blue face before it plummeted rapidly down the ravine, its large rear end facing upwards.

The mandrill's head struck the granite bank, the surging river water constantly washing over its shattered brains and liver. Blood, a mixture of red and white, mingled with the muddy water and flowed downstream. At that moment, I was completely unaware that I was soaked through, sweat dripping down my back inside my clothes.

If the ghost monkey had appeared the instant the gunshot rang out, it would have been a truly hopeless situation. The submachine gun could fire, but it couldn't stop the poisoned barbs in the blowgun. If I were to leap off this precipice, I would follow in the footsteps of that dead baboon. Even if my head didn't hit the rocks, the force of the river's impact would be enough to send my intestines flying. Moreover, since the large ship was aground, the water depth was at most twenty meters.

It took a full hour to climb to the top, and I quickly plunged into a dense foliage to avoid being noticed by anyone with a wide field of vision below. Like a monkey, I crouched, knees braced against a tree trunk, peering through binoculars.

The continuous, magnificent mountain range, like the fins of two giant dragons, squeezed the large ship between them. The stream below meandered and twisted. Through the binoculars, I could see a wide, flowing river extending from the center of the forest. But I could no longer tell which section of the river the ship was stuck in.

The mountains were fresh after a rain, filled with birdsong and animal calls. Breathing in the cool air, my respiratory system felt refreshed. Looking behind me, the valley, encircled by mountains, stretched as far as the eye could see. From this height, I could vaguely make out caves where I had once lived and forested slopes where battles had raged.

The purpose of my arduous climb here wasn't to admire the magnificent mountain scenery. Except for places where the lush vegetation obscured my view and where the line of sight was blocked, there were no signs of any savage settlements. But what filled me with both joy and unease was the presence of many nests resembling those of the Siberian hawk, hanging oval from the branches of large trees, much like giant hornet's nests.

The mountain air was thick with moisture; white wisps of mist drifted back and forth like clouds, piling up and rising, shrouding the valley in a hazy, mysterious atmosphere. Staying up there wasn't a solution; this altitude instilled a sense of detachment from the earth, a feeling of loneliness and cold unease.

The distribution and course of the mountains and rivers were roughly imprinted in my mind. Following the route I'd taken up, I slowly climbed back down. The descent was indeed difficult, taking an hour longer than the ascent. The main problem was that the rope hooks were useless; I had to move on my hands and feet.

Back on the deck, Yi Liang's red, tear-filled eyes finally broke into a sweet smile. Chi Chun asked me if there were any rare or precious herbs on the cliff face. I said I hadn't had time to look closely. However, I still took a few sprigs of *Clematis chinensis* from my pocket and gave them to her.

Upon seeing them, Chi Chun's eyes immediately lit up. She exclaimed happily that these were priceless natural treasures and asked how many were left on the cliff. I said I'd casually pulled them down on the way down, but later my pockets were full, and I was in a hurry to get down, so I hadn't picked many.

"I'll make you some soup. I'll make wild ginseng and crocodile meat porridge for everyone at noon." I didn't speak, but asked who had shot down the mandrill. Lu Ya gave me a thumbs-up, then made a kill sign. I nodded to her.

As I descended the cliff, I kept thinking. Our original escape plan had been disrupted, and there wasn't enough time left to readjust it. Right now, we had to change our strategy and adopt a defensive, guerrilla-style approach. Since the large ship was stranded here, we had to disguise and hide it. Once the Sea Demon arrived at the island and couldn't find any trace of the Azure Ghost, it would only delay us for a month at most before leaving. At that time, even if we rowed away from the island on a raft, we wouldn't have to worry about these pirates.

However, there was one problem: although this location was secluded, it was also close to the Ghost Monkey tribe. If we were discovered or surrounded again, compared to encountering the Sea Demon, it would only be a gruesome death without any humiliation.

Chapter 138: The Ugly Living Fossil

. I thought of grabbing my axe and going to the cliff to cut some large branches to camouflage the large ship. Looking down from the towering peak, the most striking thing was the ship's hull—blue and white exterior with a brown deck, full of modern civilization features.

Crisp branches were covered with translucent dewdrops. Ropes hung from the ship's side, suspending the dense canopy of trees, mainly to conceal the ship's shape and white color. Everyone worked together, and just as the large ship was disguised as a small green island in the middle of the gorge, Lu Ya cried out in alarm.

"Ghost, ghost monkey, ghost monkey, ghost monkey!" These words, once they entered my ears, were like someone who had just received an HIV test result hearing a positive result—all the muscles and tendons in their body suddenly withered away from their heels, and they collapsed to the ground.

"Quick, get into the cabin! Run! Quickly!" Before I even raised my head and saw the ghost monkey that Lu Ya had seen, I shouted. The women, as if dodging an air raid, frantically gathered towards the cabin door and squeezed inside.

"Lu Ya, Yi Liang, grab your submachine guns and help me suppress the ghost monkey as it approaches." I took out the six weapons that I had already hidden under the stairs at the cabin door and ran quickly towards the stern. Lu Ya and Yi Liang took the weapons and quickly lay prone on the deck, preparing for a bloody battle.

Crouching and kneeling at the stern of the deck, through the binoculars, upstream in the gorge, there was a raft with four or five tiny figures standing upright, drifting rapidly towards us. As I drew closer to my target, my heart was pounding in my throat.

A minute later, I could see my targets clearly from the side, and what I saw truly surprised me. Standing on the raft were tiny, dark-skinned gnomes, quite different from the ghost monkeys I'd encountered earlier. Two of them, clearly a man and a woman, appeared to be human. Their lips were thick and black, everted, their teeth a ghastly yellow, their gums swollen and bleeding, like boxers struck in the face, with bloodied dentures in their mouths.

These were likely savages, natives of the basin valley, remarkably similar to Pygmies. To them, the two girls and I were like birds in the forest, beasts in the grass, to be killed and eaten. The adult male didn't have a blowgun, but he was carrying a bow and arrows.

Whatever it was, if they approached with weapons, we had to be wary. Perhaps they were the advance party, sent to scout. The adult female also seemed to be holding something, but it wasn't a weapon.

Closer still, I could see it was a thorny ring with three or four small white-scaled fish threaded on it, like a family of five out hunting. Their bodies and limbs were very thin, almost hairless, with tufts of black hair on the top of their round heads, like black scars on a bald head. Or perhaps their hair was too long to cut and had been burned short with a torch.

These dwarf natives became tense as they approached the large ship. Even with their good eyesight, it was no match for a telescope. Therefore, I could get information about them earlier. The adult male savages had already grabbed the bamboo poles placed across the raft and slammed on the brakes.

The raft was made of hemp vines and broken wood; although simple and crude, it looked very sturdy. They moored the logs on the upstream rocky bank, thirty meters from the stern of the large ship. This made me a little worried; they stopped the raft as if they had spotted prey and were coming to shoot arrows.

Luya and Yiliang quickly released the safety of their guns; a slight pull of the trigger would instantly kill this family of five little savages. I hurriedly reminded them not to expose their heads too much, and especially not to get up, as the tips of the arrows were probably poisonous frog skin sap.

The dark-skinned male savage took the small fish from the female savage and, carrying a bow and arrows, approached us. Now I got a good look at it. It was less than a meter tall, with large, grayish-white eyes sunken beneath its high cheekbones, a short nose with large nostrils. This face was a living fossil of the late stages of primate evolution into humans.

"Ah, a hairless monkey! Are we going to shoot?" Luya whispered, afraid of any approaching apes or similar animals, as if she had developed a monkey phobia. Actually, this wasn't a phobia; it was the lack of fear of monkeys that caused the phobia: a mental disorder.

"Don't shoot out of blind fear. They have no weapons. Monkeys don't evolve like this in seven or eight days. They're likely natives." Even as I said this, I didn't dare move the gun pointed at the dwarf savage.

The male savage walked along the foot of the mountain stream to the closest point to us. The muddy river water gurgled, separating our bodies and our civilization. He glared at us with his large, greyish-white eyes for a moment, then held up a small fish skewered on a thorn branch.

This action suddenly made me realize that these dwarf savages possessed a primal humanity. This family of five, seemingly struggling to make ends meet, knew to help us. Those few small fish weren't even enough for Luya to eat half a meal; their meager offerings amused the two girls.

I then put my gun away, but Luya and Yiliang remained ready to fire. After all, we were outsiders, unfamiliar with our surroundings and tribal culture. We were currently in a refuge-taking position. This family of five certainly had tribal origins, and since they meant no harm, we should try to be friendly with them.

They didn't understand civilized language, and even though they were small, they couldn't report us to the Sea Demon. If a conflict broke out with the native tribe, leading to a bloodbath, heavy firepower would be unacceptable.

The male savage tribe had already developed a mother tongue. The savage who offered us food seemed to be using language. His lips pursed high, like a person whistling, making a sound like "woo-woo-woo, gurgling-gurgling." It was rich with the scents of primate communication.

I couldn't approach it; after all, I could only guess at that behavior. But one thing was certain: it, its wife, and three children were all emaciated from hunger, resembling ten-year-old children growing up in a state of famine in Africa.

Even these few meager little fish were cherished as food, deliberately weaving through them with thorns, showing how difficult it was to hunt and how scarce food was. The mandrill that had just been shot down from the high cliff had rather plump meat. But now, it had long since rushed downstream, having filled its belly with fish.

We have guns, and sniper rifles at that. Not to mention mandrills, we can shoot any wild leopard, giant bear, or wild boar we see and eat. But this family of little savages—just that one fat, strong mandrill alone weighs more than them all—eating them is a possibility.

Despite their harsh living conditions, these indigenous people selflessly offered a few small fish, demonstrating that selfishness, deceit, possessiveness, and greed are not yet inherent in their nature. I waved to the shrieking savage, indicating that I didn't need food. But it didn't understand at all, perhaps mistaking my waving arm for a dog wagging its tail.

Back in the cabin hall, I used a sieve net to scoop out five large piranhas. To avoid injuring the dwarf savage and causing misunderstandings, I slammed the lively piranhas several times on the hall floor until their gills bled and most of their scales were knocked off before putting them in the net.

Chapter 139:

After the small fish on the brambles came out, I picked up a fish and held it up in my hand to show it, indicating that we didn't need fish. It quickly understood and realized that the fish in its hand was pitifully small. I thought it would be embarrassed or envious. But it wasn't; vanity and jealousy hadn't formed in their value system.

The dwarf savage was overjoyed to see we had fish, turning to walk back to his raft as if the fish on the brambles were a gift from us. This gentle and kind nature was reminiscent of a branch of the Kabaya tribe.

As a sniper, in jungle warfare, one must be adept at imitating the calls of various birds and beasts to communicate with teammates. Imitating sounds, too, had undergone rigorous training. So, I immediately imitated the dwarf savage's call, thinking it was a sign of friendliness.

As a result, this creature, as big as a winter melon, actually stopped and became happy. It assumed I could speak the tribal language and asked if it was hungry and needed food. From the gleam in its large, greyish-white eyes, it was clear this family was on the verge of starvation.

In these untouched primeval forests, food is their currency, their daily task, and their life's sustenance. I wrapped five plump piranhas in a tattered cloth, then swung my arm and threw them forcefully onto the nearby bank. Of course, I had to make sure it saw this, to avoid it misinterpreting it as an unfriendly attack.

This behavior astonished him and his entire family. What they were thinking and how they interpreted it, I have no way of knowing. The dwarf savage hadn't returned to the raft yet, standing there for a long time, like a playful puppy pouncing on a rolling ball, unsure of what to do next.

Finally, he hesitated before walking over. Upon opening the package, the small fish on the thorny branches looked like dried bamboo leaves against the backdrop. The male savage returned to the raft, and the whole family was unusually excited. Clearly, these five unassuming piranhas were a rich harvest for their small bodies.

The dwarf savage's family didn't go downstream; instead, they sat on the raft and began to eat. The silvery-white fish on the thorny branches were divided among the three children like family property. They only ate one of the piranhas given to them, the rest being treated as treasures and adorned with thorny branches.

Looking up at the crack in the sky at the top of the mountain stream, wisps of white clouds drifted across the azure sky. The light was intense, yet the entire large boat seemed to be under the shade of trees. The dampness and lack of sunlight would delay the withering of the trees masquerading as a large ship. When the raft is replaced, the old trees can be used as firewood.

I told Chi Chun to only use the stove at dusk, cooking three meals a day, with breakfast and lunch reheated in the kitchen. The nights would be cold and damp, and every woman could warm herself near the stove to avoid catching a cold.

The dwarf savage then moved closer to the shore, closest to the ship, and began to whimper and gurgle. I thought he still wanted the fish, or perhaps just wanted to thank me, but I never expected him to have a sense of returning the fish, stuffing some stones into the rag that had wrapped it and throwing it onto the deck.

This primal consciousness filled me with helplessness, as if I were playing a game with a monkey that seemed to understand human nature. The stranded ship could only float again with the help of the rising river water during the next flood discharge. And it absolutely could not be allowed to drift uncontrollably downstream.

Since the dwarf savages were hunting and foraging in this area, it suggested that the possibility of a ghost monkey tribe nearby was unlikely.

Our arrival was tantamount to forcibly inserting ourselves into the food chain; without actively maintaining and controlling the primal balance, we were highly susceptible to danger. These dwarf savages were not like leopards or crocodiles, whose numbers were dwindling with each kill. Like businessmen from out of town who couldn't survive without currying favor with the local inhabitants, we were even more passive, like snails, with the ship as our hard shell. With towering cliffs on both sides and dense, treacherous forests, there was almost no way out if danger struck.

"What does he want? Does he want more fish? Will releasing them be dangerous for us?" Yi Liang asked me anxiously. "I don't know, let's see." The live fish in the hall were limited; we hadn't found a stable food source nearby, so we couldn't be reckless.

Yi Liang didn't understand the savage before her. If his family of five couldn't return to the tribe before dark, the chief would likely launch a tribe-wide search. If they found us, we would likely be attacked as murderers.

The dwarf savage had evolved to use language; everything that had happened today would surely be reported to the chief upon their return. To increase the stakes of showing goodwill, I pulled a dog-headed eagle from its cage and tossed it to him. The dwarf savage picked up the large bird, which was about his own length, and the joy in his eyes surged like a turbulent stream.

He used his short shoulders to carry the heavy eagle, then stood back on the bank, stammering and gesturing incessantly. I suddenly realized that what he wanted to express seemed unrelated to food. Yi Liang also noticed this; she quietly got up to pick up the tattered bag the dwarf had thrown onto the deck.

I immediately pulled Yi Liang back to her shooting position. As a professional assassin, I was always particularly wary and suspicious of packages and boxes handled by others. Yi Liang's recklessness showed she had so much to learn.

Picking up a twig, I first tentatively poked at the torn cloth bundle, finding nothing alive inside, before carefully unwrapping it. Inside were several damp, angular granite stones mixed with bits of torn grass. I'd never seen plants grow into such a braided rope-like shape, but one of the greenish-gray plants was clearly woven from fingers.

Using the forked end of the twig, I lifted the exposed grass rope, and a small pendant, about the size of a hummingbird egg and resembling a cricket cage, made of finely woven grass fibers, began to sway before my eyes. The little thing rolling inside shimmered with a dazzling white light, its opulent brilliance startling me.

I quickly clenched it in my hand, trying to prevent others from seeing it before I could figure it out. There was no market here, no makeshift stalls or vendors; glass wouldn't form naturally like in a cave, and crystal wouldn't have such a grand luster.

"Could it be...could it really be..." I thought excitedly, not daring to jump to conclusions, and quickly opened my palm to examine it again. As expected, the tadpole-sized, crystal-clear pebble was indeed a diamond weighing over 1.2 grams.

I quickly stood up, gripped the pendant tightly, revealing only the straw rope in my hand, and raised it to the dwarf savage on the shore. He immediately stopped his primitive language and actions, turned, and walked towards the raft with his wife and children.

These dwarfs were more advanced than I had imagined, already at the stage of primitive exchange. From the moment he moored the raft to the moment he carried the dog-headed eagle away, the entire process was one of exchange, without any intention of giving without compensation.

Their understanding of things and their values were a raw, naked barter system. That ornament, neither edible nor warm, could be exchanged for tens of millions of piranhas, or hiring humans to feed them, providing an endless supply of smoked meat and desserts, and if they liked it, even fine beer.

This sudden exchange stirred my emotions, leaving me unable to calm down for a long time.

Chapter 140: The Exposed Ten-Thousand-Year Pace

If they had escaped the Sea Demon, any large ship approaching the territorial waters of any sovereign nation would be subject to inspection. The ship's weapons and ammunition will soon be confiscated, and I'll face months of questioning, with the possibility of extradition. Moreover, the cargo lost on the Snow has already bankrupted me.

Everything on the ship probably won't even amount to a single Riel in compensation. Besides, there are twenty-five kilograms of gold on the roof of the galley in the sleeping quarters. Cang Gui's previous actions weren't foolish.

Proceeds from arms and drug deals are highly sensitive to cross the border before a secure and concealed underground financial channel is established. Therefore, he could only hide the ten treasure chests on this deserted island, amidst the rocks at the edge of the Great Muddy Swamp.

Even before appraisal, the items given by the dwarf savage were already invaluable. Half a diamond alone would be enough for Luya, Yiliang, and me to live a comfortable life in any country for the rest of our lives. Most importantly, diamonds are tiny; I have a way to smuggle them into the country. After changing their names and appearances, they would fabricate an outrageous reason, put the goods up for auction, and then launder the money through Swiss or international banks, safely transferring it to their own quiet wealth.

The ship's weapons and gold had to be hidden on the island when leaving; otherwise, it would be dangerous anywhere. The dwarf savage family was about to be happily sent back when I immediately picked up my binoculars to carefully observe their bodies. His wife and three children also wore similar ornaments around their necks.

I hurried back into the cabin, pulled out two dog-headed eagles, and imitated the dwarf savage's calls to signal them not to leave. The family of five turned around in bewilderment, their gray-white eyes wide. Seeing me holding up another large gray-feathered bird, the male savage showed no interest. He sniffed the first large bird I'd thrown to him with his short nose and began chattering in his primitive language again.

The dog-headed eagle had been dead for three days, somewhat spoiled and smelling bad, so the dwarf savage was unwilling to continue bartering. I immediately threw the dog-headed eagle I was holding onto the deck. I pointed to the cabin, and the dwarf savage seemed confused, not understanding what I meant.

It wasn't until I grabbed some dried crocodile meat, rewrapped it in a tattered cloth, and tossed it ashore that he grasped my meaning. He opened the bundle, picked up a piece of dried crocodile meat, examined it for a long time, then put it in his mouth and quickly began to chew.

Crocodile meat is just raw food for us, but for this dwarf savage, it held profound significance. He was probably the first primitive human in the entire tribe to eat cooked food. The semi-cooked dried crocodile meat, glistening with oil, was crisp and chewy. It was like beef jerky or salted fish slices for someone who had been starving all day. The savage's eyes at that moment were like those of a greedy person seeing diamonds.

He ate as he ran back to the raft, like a child who had just bought an expensive toy and was eager to show it off to his companions. I was also hoping he would take off some jewelry from his wife and children to exchange for it. But the dwarf savage wrapped up a dog-headed eagle and tossed it onto the deck.

With his current intelligence, faced with trade from a highly civilized society, I could easily use a fraction of my logic to persuade him to seduce his wife and daughters into the exchange, let alone just a few ropes. Looking at his emaciated body and his family, I felt a pang of pity.

To a savage, diamonds are merely glittering pebbles. Easily obtained food is only enough to fill our stomachs. This exchange strongly motivated me, because I knew the value of diamonds was eternal.

I retrieved the eagle's head from the hold and tossed him some dried crocodile meat. As expected, he didn't throw back fresh piranhas, but instead, like before, tossed some stones onto the deck. To avoid revealing my motives to the dwarf savage, I casually picked up the package and opened it, desperately trying to conceal my inner fervor.

There were identical ropes again, and inside the small cage's tassel, a dazzling white bead, so bright it was almost blinding. This one was smaller than the first, about 0.8 grams. I didn't dare look too long, afraid I wouldn't have enough time to exchange for the dwarf savage's ornaments.

The tattered bundles tossed ashore were filled with more and more dried meat each time; the dwarf savage was busy and happy, and even his dark buttocks seemed to be smiling. Chi Chun leaned over and tugged at my sleeve, signaling me to stop, like a family of three going to the zoo, the wife not allowing her husband to give the monkeys too much candy.

She was unaware of the truth before her, only thinking I was wasting food on five upright-walking wild apes on the pitiful raft. I quickly embraced Chi Chun and kissed her fair, delicate forehead deeply. "Darling, hurry back to the cabin, it's dangerous here, the savages are carrying bows and arrows." Chi Chun was initially stunned, then her face softened as she gently pulled her full breasts from my chest, her mature woman's slightly hot belly, along with a puff of heat, leaving my most masculine part.

The three dwarf wild children's ornaments, once grasped in my palm, immediately overturned my previous guesses. The first two were diamonds, without a doubt. But the last three straw ropes were tied with tadpole-sized rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. Especially the blue one, I couldn't be sure, it could also be a Paraiba tourmaline. When I am sniping terrorists who are robbing jewelry, I seized a package containing something similar. Now, for the second time, I have the opportunity to hold them between my fingers.

If one were to see these colorful handicrafts in a noisy, bustling street, one would immediately associate them with vulgarity and cheap imitations designed to satisfy vanity.

The reality before my eyes proves that the dwarf savages are at least tens of thousands of years removed from this kind of industrial production. If the savage family's ornaments were all covered in diamonds, perhaps there are gemstone deposits nearby in the valley. It's possible that after a good meal, the savages might have gathered similar items from the pebble stream to adorn their primitive culture.

However, the gemstones they possess are vastly different; the natural geology of such a small area couldn't have produced them all simultaneously. Five gemstones in their palms—such a coincidence could only have occurred if they had been taken from a treasure chest. I've already thrown the Canggui's remains into the river to feed the fish; no wonder he went to such lengths to retrieve the treasure chest.

Thinking of this, I raised my binoculars with lightning speed and carefully observed the dwarf savages on the raft. The more I looked at them, the more they resembled ghost monkeys; the more terrified I became, the more I felt the urge to shoot their entire family. Because the other nine treasure chests were in the hands of the Ghost Monkey, their access to the chests meant they were connected to him.

It's a pity I didn't have a bamboo pole, otherwise I would have definitely followed them to scout the dwarf savage tribe. The savage family dragged their raft upstream along the stream bank, like a family of boatmen. I pried five gems off the straw rope and secretly put them in my pocket. Back in the hall, I tossed the ornament rope beside the reed rack, and the women quickly came to warm themselves by the fire; I needed to create a diversion for them.

Entering the armory, I found a small piece of oilcloth, wrapped it tightly, and stuffed this priceless treasure into a wooden hole in a dark corner. When we leave the large ship, I will definitely find a way to take it with me.

Chapter 141: The Hint of the Soul Under the Lamp

As dusk approached, Luya, Yiliang, and I, carrying sniper rifles, patrolled the deck. What exactly were the other nine treasure chests filled with? How many similar gems were there? And where did the dwarf savages' treasure chests come from? The thought lingered in my mind like a hawk, refusing to leave.

If the dwarf savages and the ghost monkeys were allied tribes, the morning's barter, if leaked, could easily lead to murder. Or perhaps the ghost monkeys had left behind a treasure chest, which the dwarf savages found.

The third possibility, the least likely, was that the dwarf savage tribe fought the ghost monkey tribe and seized their treasure chest. The ghost monkeys were ferocious and bloodthirsty. The dwarf savage family, however, was gentle and possessed a primitive simplicity. In a tribal feud, they would be no match for the ghost monkeys. The ghost monkeys, when they fought, were relentlessly aggressive, never faltering except in battle. Through

the patrol's binoculars, another raft appeared, coming down the stream. I quickly jumped onto the gun emplacement, watching them approach. The family of five natives had returned; through the binoculars, I noticed that half of the food I had given them was gone. Something upstream had probably robbed them.

The male and female dwarfs seemed to have thick woven grass rings around their necks. They had returned to their tribe, the delicious crocodile jerky filling them with excitement, so they hurried back to exchange with me again.

My heart pounded with excitement; such a large trade surplus meant that even if the dwarf tribe had nine treasure chests, I could easily seduce them with food—a hypocritical yet safe arrangement. They moored their raft at their previous spot, and the male dwarf walked to the stream bank where they had been throwing rags at each other, chattering excitedly and gesturing wildly.

This time, the barter went smoothly. I first threw him a rag containing jerky, and he returned a grass rope necklace, each pendant containing a glittering bead. The beads varied in size, but I didn't care; as long as the grass rope had such a thing, I would repay with jerky. And, the bundles were substantial.

One by one, I stuffed the glittering little things into my pocket, until my hand felt like it was holding a handful of peanuts—only then was the transaction complete. The dwarf savage, overjoyed, lifted the battered old raft, and the whole family, working together, carried the tow rope back along the stream bank.

Watching their receding figures, an indescribable feeling welled up inside me. Five more were hidden in the corner of the ammunition depot; now I had a handful in my pocket. The glittering gems, like a beacon in my soul, began to illuminate the deep, dark corners, sparking a longing I'd never felt before—a longing for a better life.

Before, the weapons and gold were like millions in a bank account; I handled such wealth like a teller, easily tempted but rarely truly interested. Because, if I lost my composure and harbored any ill intentions, it would be either imprisonment or death. Alone, let alone engaging in arms dealing, even the slightest slip would make me a victim of double-crossing. Even gold is hard to sell, unless it's unmined gold ore, then it won't arouse suspicion.

I've been struggling in the abyss of poverty, my heart as cold as ashes, my resolve as firm as ice. But now, it's as if I've found a glimmer of light, like a crack in the sky above, distant yet offering a breath of fresh air. The women in the hall looked on with fear; they didn't understand why they were exchanging food for straw rope.

Chi Chun sat down next to me, asking worriedly, "What do you need this straw rope for? It's inedible." I knew what she meant; as the ship's cook, she always worried about food shortages. Two-thirds of the crocodile meat was gone in a single day. With forty-two mouths on the ship, even with three meals a day, the live fish in the raft would only last ten days. The ship had run aground here, and they hadn't yet found a substitute for their original food.

“Don’t worry. There are many small animals in the dense forest on the mountainside. If you hit them, they will fall down on their own. Give the dwarf savage food, and we’ll be on good terms with him in exchange for some peace.” I said to Chi Chun, stroking her beautiful black hair. This was the first time I had made a suggestive gesture to her.

Chi Chun’s eyes, as clear as autumn water, stared straight into mine. I didn’t meet her gaze, focusing only on her body. But I could feel that Chi Chun’s eyes, which were sharp enough to capture a man’s lust, were very keen.

The gems in my pocket were wrapped into three bundles and hidden in the engine room and storage room. At midnight, the sound of a stream babbling outside the ship, the calls of various night birds, and the chorus of tens of thousands of insects filled the air. I held my rifle and stood guard alone at the bottom of the cabin stairs, half-awake and half-asleep.

Chi Chun, I didn’t know when, quietly went up to the hall. She was carrying two thin blankets, pushed open the door, slipped in, and quickly closed it again. A pretty, shy face suddenly came into view. She didn't speak, but knelt down beside me and began to lay out the bedding.

I didn't speak either, just watched silently. Her pert buttocks, accentuated by her kneeling posture, appeared exceptionally full. Once her pants were off, her snow-white skin would reveal her plump, jade-like breasts. Chi Chun moved skillfully, quickly laying out the Japanese-style floorboards. She turned to look back, then lowered her ample buttocks and began to unfasten her bra.

Dim yellow light streamed in from next door, and Chi Chun's slender, white fingers, like a ethereal song floating on her collar, slowly revealed her fair, smooth neck and cleavage. My Adam's apple bobbed uncontrollably, and I swallowed unconsciously.

Chi Chun was incredibly charming and adept at sensual pleasures. She simply unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it open, then remained still, whispering shyly, "My period is over." Her long, black hair cascaded over her delicate shoulders, and her two full, plump breasts, brimming with milk, swayed gracefully. Her nipples, etched by the suckling and nibbling of her husband and infant, resembled two crimson snow lotuses emerging from a snow-covered mountainside.

Perhaps Chi Chun was born a beauty, possessing a body that could ignite male desire and a keen intuition to understand it. Her body now was no longer the frail figure she had been in her cave dwelling, dependent on a man's care and unable to withstand intimate contact.

Desire lured me forward, drawing me closer. Chi Chun's sensual pose was like a beauty in a painting, head bowed, face flushed with shyness, admiring her alluring body, imagining the man who would possess her. But Chi Chun, at this moment, needed no imagination; like a spider with a well-spun web, she simply waited for her prey to fall into her trap.

Just as my nose was about to touch Chi Chun's cheek, she suddenly looked up, offering her fragrant tongue to my mouth, giving and allowing me to greedily suckle. At the same time, her two jade-like arms tightened around my neck, pressing her forcefully into my body, as if I had escaped from her. My

heavy breathing suddenly quickened, like a roaring bull. The intertwining of our tongues quickly became insufficient, and my mouth and nose began to slide into her surging, full breasts, pounding and churning them. The milky, sweet scent intoxicated me.

Chapter 142: The Enemy Missing to the Naked Eye

The bedding Chi Chun brought wasn't very thick, but she still maintained her posture, kneeling with her soft, light peach-colored knees until they turned a rose-red. Besides reproduction and nurturing, this was another sacred mission for a woman. My lower body was hard and erect, and with its large size, only a woman like Chi Chun could withstand it.

My rough hands, pressing against Chi Chun's plump buttocks, could feel the wetness in her cleft, not from her delicate body, but from not drying herself after a short bath. The abdominal muscles and her infinitely elastic buttocks made a slapping sound, and I became uncontrollably active and proactive. A pungent, pungent smell rose to my sense of smell, entering my stomach with each heavy breath. Chi Chun was right; her menstrual flow had just ended, so naturally she had that conquering womanly scent.

A woman who had walked the path of love and sex had developed flexibility in the areas of contact. After I was wounded and had shrapnel removed, I noticed that her body was extremely sensitive, secreting fluids quickly and abundantly, without causing discomfort to either of us.

Although it was past midnight and the other women were fast asleep on the second floor, Chi Chun's soft moans and gasps still escaped her lips. Left with no other choice, I positioned her in a supine frog position, covered her mouth with mine, and thrust into her body with all my might.

Chi Chun's moans were finally suppressed in her throat, emitting soft, muffled sounds that emanated from her skin. As dawn approached, Chi Chun moved one of my thighs aside, pulled out her pink belly that I had been pressing against her, gently kissed my forehead, picked up her clothes, and quietly returned to her sleeping quarters, lying down with her child.

As a high-ranking sniper, I had already broken a taboo. Chi Chun had been raped by thugs on the Snow, and I had no idea whether her body was infected with bacteria. Yet I had made love to her without any protection.

A sniper's enemies fall into two categories: those visible dangers, which are rejected with bullets; and those involving chemical agents and biological bacteria, which must be dealt with using their own methods—either by staying away or avoiding contact. Now, I sat up on the floor, looking at my lower body, which had been working all night, covered in dried mucus, with many wrinkled and peeling skin. Some of the secretions were mine, and some were Chi Chun's.

Chi Chun is a doctor; she must know that seemingly intact genital organs can have an incubation period when infected with bacteria. When I bathed Chi Chun in the stream in front of the cave, she saw my member and knew it was healthy and large. But Chi Chun herself ignored all of this, only wanting to satisfy me and express her gratitude. From her excited expression and some outrageous behavior last night, it wasn't hard to see that she was a mature woman obsessed with lust, unable to live without men, and with rather unusual tastes.

Carrying a small bucket, I filled it with river water, washed the dried substance, and then stopped thinking about last night. Perhaps it was related to Chi Chun's age; after all, she was only thirty-four.

Everyone ate a heated breakfast and began a busy new day. I swung a heavy hammer on the anvil, forging many meat hooks to make climbing tools. Before the large ship departed, this steep mountainside was the only escape route. Running along the riverbank would be too risky if danger struck.

The mountain stream continued its swift course. Morning mist rose like smoke, seemingly lowering the sky to match the mountain peaks. The tranquil forests on either side echoed with the calls of birds and beasts, as if they had just noticed our arrival.

I remember as a child, my mother, who loved Chinese culture, often made me recite ancient poems in front of my father. "The monkeys' cries on both banks could not be stopped, yet the light boat had already passed ten thousand mountains." This line seemed like a prophecy for us. Yet, mountain goblins on both banks howled sharply, as if trying to drive away the uninvited guests. The large ship beneath our feet was far from a light vessel. Even that poet had never seen such a massive ship.

Standing upright on the deck, I raised my sniper rifle, searching for prey through the blue scope. "Awooo, awooo, awooo, quack quack quack quack." A hundred meters above, several powerful mandrills, seeing the people on deck raising their guns, let out a piercing laugh.

They thought we were carrying sticks, trying to poke down food from the rock face—like mandrills using stalks of grass to poke into an anthill to catch ants. "Bang, bang, bang." Three sniper bullets, streaking across the sky, pierced through the dense, colorful leaves of the canopy, striking the shoehorn-shaped heads of three mandrills. Spurts of blood sprayed from beneath the green branches, clinging to the swaying leaves, dripping precariously.

Before the first mandrill hit the ground, the second and third, like parachutists, tumbled down one after another. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, the thick, lush canopy trembled from the impact.

"Thud, thud, thud," of the three carcasses, one fell into the river. The other two crashed onto the granite bank, their heads smashed into pieces. With Lu Ya and Yi Liang providing sniper cover, I hopped on the raft and carried back the meat.

The mandrill, its head half-blown off by a bullet, lay motionless on the bank. Its blood flowed through the cracks in the rocks, like the scarlet roots of an old tree extending to the shore, stubbornly resisting the repeated washes of the muddy stream.

Two heavy mandrills were dragged onto the raft and taken back to the deck for butchering. Not a single entrail was intact; they were all shattered. Mandrills are the second smallest primate after orangutans. Chi Chun had advised against eating monkey meat in subtropical environments, and I agreed.

For a dwarf savage to hunt an adult mandrill with a small bow would be as dangerous as a man challenging a giant bear with a wooden pole. Even with poisoned arrowheads, the odds wouldn't be much better. Fur, compared to skin, is armor.

I eagerly await the return of the dwarf savages. If they come to trade again, I'll give them fresh mandrill meat; with their keen sense of smell, they should love the aroma of freshly slaughtered meat. However, I know how to process it to make them even more obsessed.

Before grilling the mandrill meat, I replaced the tin plate I used to grill the crocodile meat to prevent bacterial contamination. It's not dusk yet, so I can't start a fire. Therefore, I chopped the pre-slaughtered mandrill meat into brick-sized chunks, awaiting the next step: roasting.

Chi Chun told me that those savage savages wouldn't get poisoned eating this charred monkey meat. Modern people's digestive and immune systems would naturally suffer from eating raw meat, as we can't instantly revert to the state of thousands of years ago. Chi Chun, well-versed in health preservation, told me a lot. After last night's passionate encounter, her face radiated even more alluring beauty, like a delicate and precious virgin of lovemaking.

Before nightfall, a small raft appeared upstream. My blood boiled instantly, as if I could see countless glittering gems slowly drifting towards me. Unexpectedly, another small raft appeared at the bend behind, then a dense mass of rafts appeared, covering the entire upstream stretch for a kilometer.

I quickly climbed the mast, trying to get a better look. The massive dwarf raft fleet had the air of a raider; if that were the case, I'd have to bring out the machine guns beforehand and kill them before my shortbows could reach them.

Chapter 143:

Through the probability telescope on my temple, these dwarf savages looked identical, with no trace of the ghost monkeys mixed in. Each raft appeared as a family, with little wild children. However, everyone carried a shortbow and plenty of arrows.

"Luya, Yiliang, each of you, hold your guns in both hands, crawl under the metal stern, and wait to fire." I deployed the battlefield as I slid down the mast. I pulled out the "Overbearing Yama" from the ammunition depot again.

Ever since I saw the weapons of the dwarf savages, I've been forging three small fortresses out of sheet metal. During battle, I lie inside them to protect my back and thighs from arrows falling from above, especially since the arrowheads are poisoned. These small fortresses can also be moved during combat to adjust my formation.

Two little girls lay prone below, only half their heads showing, resembling long, thin sea turtles, yet they gave me a sense of security. If they were harmed, it would be like tearing out my heart. The family of five from before led the way in the small raft convoy.

When they were a hundred meters from the large boat, the rafts docked, forming a long line along the stream. If a large group of dwarves were to disappear into the woods, it would undoubtedly be an attack and robbery. The dwarf savage I had traded with twice before, like before, came forward first.

I was a little worried, afraid he was coming to declare war or for some other unfriendly act. My palms were sweating as I gripped the powerful machine gun. When the dwarf savage came over, he wasn't carrying any trade goods, only a small short bow, and stood on the opposite bank shouting incoherently. Then he went back.

Compared to the ghost monkeys, I thought the dwarf savages were easier to deal with; a volley of machine gun fire would be a quick and decisive strike. With a sniper rifle to keep them in check, none would escape. But that would make it difficult to obtain the remaining gems, or even lose all clues. Communication was too difficult; given their current behavior, it was impossible to determine friend from foe.

If they shot arrows at the people on the large ship, I would unleash a massacre; even the best treasure chests would be lost. The dwarf savage went into the raft fleet and gestured incoherently with his tribe for a long time. Finally, a very fat dwarf savage, with ropes wrapped around his neck, walked to the opposite bank of the large ship.

He looked somewhat panicked, his bright gray-white eyes still unable to conceal his excitement. His face, like a Russian black loaf of bread, had a pitifully short nose. I thought he might be the chief.

This guy looked old, indicating their tribe was beginning to become more human. Because among primates, the strongest are usually the leaders. He didn't shout; his gaze was completely drawn to the large ship and the people on the deck.

I took out a pre-wrapped packet of dried meat and threw it to the opposite bank. The savage chief then regained his senses and hurriedly squatted down to pick it up. For this kind of highly profitable transaction, I had to take the initiative. Like a salesperson in a luxury department store, upon seeing a hesitant customer, they rush forward with fawning smiles. These smiles carry a deeper meaning, as if not buying something would be considered a disservice. Live prey.

The short, stout chief took a bite of the jerky in his hand, immediately becoming excited, shouting towards the distant rafting group. It was as if he were praising the dwarf leader, or announcing permission for the entire tribe to conduct a large-scale transaction.

The dwarf savages gathered on the distant stream bank let out joyful howls. I hated this kind of commotion, especially this pointless noise. Their sense of vigilance was poor; the undulating mountains would carry their voices far, potentially attracting danger.

The stout chief was foolish; he took the rag bundle back to the raft, strung it on thorns, and then threw it over with a rope wrapped around it. I quickly unwrapped the bundle, pulled out the rope, and found another dazzling gem in my hair. Trading with such primitive savages, there was no need to worry about fraud; their similar behaviors were merely out of ignorance.

The dwarf savages had a hierarchical system; their trade proceeded from elders to children, orderly and efficient, revealing a hint of tribal civilization. Luya and Yiliang remained highly vigilant, their dark gun barrels precisely aimed at the dwarf savages.

They were unaware that control over the trade was actually in our hands. The small bows on their backs only provided them with a false sense of security. In a real conflict with firearms, they probably wouldn't even have time to remove their bows before their small bodies were shattered.

The pockets on their trousers bulged high, like plump, peeled pomegranates, rough to the touch, with a crystalline, granular texture. The amount of dried crocodile meat wasn't enough to meet their needs. Finally, the hundreds of piranhas in the raft were also traded.

In this environment, the value of food relative to life might truly be eternal. Humans, thinking themselves clever, are prone to making foolish mistakes. Not a single piece of our food was left; it was all traded for gems. Chi Chun stared with alluring, seductive eyes; her lotus-colored, pink eyelids, like tiny claws, firmly gripped the desire in the man's heart.

I knew the food was gone, and no matter how skilled she was, she couldn't be a cook. That night, everyone on the ship had to sleep on an empty stomach. Even their delicate bodies needed warmth and moisture to nourish their magnificent ovaries.

Under the cover of darkness, I stoked the fire on the grill and smoked the mandrill meat. The large, red chunks of meat, soaked in blood, sizzled and popped with tiny droplets of oil as soon as they were clamped onto the iron plate.

Luya squatted beside me, her slender little hands supporting her pretty face, constantly licking her lips and twitching her delicate nose. The bacteria in the meat naturally wouldn't spread through the aroma, so I didn't say anything, letting this hungry little girl savor the fragrance.

"Mmm, so fragrant. Mmm, so fragrant. Why does it smell so good?" I turned the meat in my hands, glancing at her with raised eyes. I understood the reason for her incessant chatter; she wanted a piece. "Look at you, so pathetic, not like a sniper at all. Three days without food, seven days without drink, what's a little temptation?" The little girl reluctantly hummed in agreement, her lips pouting.

After speaking of Lu Ya, I felt ashamed myself. Chi Chun's alluring and seductive charm last night was like sizzling, oily roasted meat. I was watching over Lu Ya, not allowing her to take any risks. But I couldn't resist the temptation myself.

If Chi Chun's genitals were infected with bacteria, the chance of me being infected after the second intimate contact would be seventy or eighty percent. The chance of infection during the shrapnel removal was only ten percent. This percentage might be seen as lucky by a man with lustful eyes. In reality, the risk is great, like a revolver loaded with one bullet, pointed at your temple, about to pull the trigger.

The villains on the Snow were mostly addicted to prostitutes and drugs; Chi Chun's violation by them was like a revolver loaded with three bullets. Once infected with a terminal illness, even a hundred diamonds cannot bring back the brilliance of life. It's like being bitten by a zombie and becoming a new zombie.

The thirty-seven female victims rescued from Cang Gui were not tested for bacteria. Hepatitis B, sexually transmitted diseases, and AIDS all have hidden incubation periods, making them difficult to detect before they manifest. If there were no imminent danger, their delicate bodies would surely be clean and healthy, and I wouldn't need to restrain my desires.

Chapter 144: The Flesh Hook Under the Moonlight

One could quietly wake up the mature beauty he had his eye on during the day at night, take her hand, go into an empty cubicle, tell her his needs, and naturally, he could be intimate with her all night, just like Chi Chun. Before dawn, he could quickly tidy up, and the woman could simply lie back in her original position with her thighs clasped together.

God has buried limitations for all behavior and laid traps for punishment. No matter how strong or wealthy a human being is, they will be like a kite on a string, controlled by the rules. In a mercenary camp in Thailand, a teammate met a local girl. He was very happy and dreamed about the future. Not long after, he committed suicide by shooting himself.

Until the day of his cremation, no one knew the truth except me. He always praised the girl, saying she wasn't a prostitute, and therefore purer than one. Unfortunately, while dating him, the girl maintained a sexual relationship with her ex-boyfriend. It wasn't until the girl told him that her ex-boyfriend had contracted AIDS from promiscuity that he understood her true meaning: "I'm sorry, I infected you with AIDS."

"Luya, you're not allowed to eat mandrill meat, or I'll beat you with thorns." After coldly telling her this, I felt as if I hated myself, turning and walking onto the deck in the night. The

rotting, stinking dog-headed eagle, the mandrill skin left after slaughter, were piled up at the stern and burned in the early morning. Watching the leaping flames and hearing the strange smell of the burning corpses brought to mind the smile of my teammate.

In Southeast Asia, most prostitutes carry viruses; they hold up health cards and try to entice you to indulge in sexual desire. Theory is like a guillotine that falls occasionally; those who dodge it are unharmed, but once they perish as victims, no matter how much reasoning or argument is applied, who cares?

The ashes from the fire are swept off the deck and mixed into the stream. Rotten flesh could have been thrown directly into the creek to avoid the risk of burning, but doing so would stimulate the surrounding food chain, causing danger. Furthermore, if it feeds the aquatic creatures, catching them becomes difficult. It's like American capitalists' apples—they'd rather rot in the river than give them to starving people; they want control.

During the daytime slaughter of mandrills, Luya and Yiliang's sniper rifles were constantly on high alert. The smell of blood easily attracted predators, but I did this deliberately, luring leopards and wild boars hidden in the rocky cliffs and forests, forcing them to appear on the stream bank. Luya and Yiliang's sniper bullets would, like labeling food, deliver a shot to their prey without hesitation.

But no ideal targets appeared on either bank; the food chain in the mountain stream and the forest river had diverged. In the still murky stream, there were several large fish, their tails creating giant whirlpools, their heads slamming against the stern of the boat with a loud clang.

The large boat beneath our feet, let alone the fish tyrants of this small stream, even the killer whales and great white sharks of the vast ocean couldn't possibly capsize it. However, judging from the arrogant crashing sounds, it wasn't hard to imagine that the dwarf savage on the small raft, if attacked like this, would definitely become a meatball rolling into the river.

The first five large pieces of mandrill meat, half-cooked and glistening with oil, were fragrant and piping hot. I took five fishing lines from the deck; the large, sharp, gleaming hooks, like sickles, gleamed coldly in the moonlight. Stepping on the juicy meat, I plunged the hooks in, using a meter-long log as a float to keep the bait suspended two and a half meters underwater.

I cast a fishing line from the bow and sides of the large boat, securing it to the railing. The last remaining hook was swung fifty meters into the stream from the gun emplacement. It was a pity there were no small camel bells to signal a bite. A few rays of moonlight peeked through the gaps in the mountain peaks, bright but stingy. The stream gurgled clearly, but the movement of the wooden floats was indistinct.

So, carrying my AK-47 rifle, I paced back and forth on the deck, feeling and adjusting each line, checking for any fish struggling in their mouths. To attract fish, I placed a burning torch at each casting spot.

A short while later, a large school of silvery-white fish, their triangular heads darting about, gathered under the fluorescent light. Their eyes, as black as grains of rice, smacked their little mouths, as if they hadn't eaten all night and were begging for food. If we had a large net, we could easily catch at least twenty or thirty pounds of these writhing fish. Once boiled in a pot, they would no longer feel hungry, and we could have a bite to eat.

These willow-leaf-sized creatures grew larger and larger in the firelight-lit stream, quickly attracting larger fish at the top of the food chain. With a sudden jerk of the hook line, I could use my strong arms to pull it out of the water; the bullets from my Akagi rifle would naturally quell any resistance from the prey.

"Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh..." A wailing sound suddenly came from the bow of the boat. By hearing alone, I couldn't determine the source of the sound; the tone was like a hyena's whining when it couldn't get its prey from a lion's mouth. I quickly grabbed my rifle, released the safety, and, holding a portable light source, slowly approached the bow of the boat.

"Anything, as long as it's not human, it deserves to be shot," I thought, and my finger began to pull the trigger. The gun barrel popped out of the deck before my head. A beam of light, like a long barrel, shone into the water along the blue hook rope. Sure enough, a wild dog, struggling to maintain its balance in the stream, would have been swept away long ago if not for its mouth gripping the rope.

Its fur was soaking wet, and its eyes, gleaming like sapphires in the light, shone brightly. I didn't pull the rope to save it, despite the pleading look in its eyes. Because, the four sharp fangs protruding from the front of the dog's narrow snout were enough to prove it was a wolf.

This young wolf cub, inexperienced in survival, might have been swept downstream. Or perhaps, it had smelled the aroma of roasted mandrill meat and lost its footing, becoming a drowning dog. Shooting it dead was easy, but getting it onto the deck would be difficult.

I ran back to the hall, frantically searching for a long pole. Luya, that girl, had somehow fallen asleep by the stove. I couldn't worry about her now; I grabbed the tied hook and rushed to the bow.

The young wolf cub was still biting at the rope. Seeing me again, it glanced at me with its blue eyes. It wanted help but was also afraid of me. This was the first time this wolf had seen me, but I had seen wolves many times. Now, I wasn't afraid at all. Since it wasn't some kind of monster, bullets were the perfect injection.

The gleaming hook, held aloft by the long pole, trembled as it approached the wolf's head. The cub immediately tensed, whimpering incessantly, but still wouldn't let go of the rope. I slightly twisted my wrist, causing the hook to sink into its gaping mouth. After roughly estimating that it was secure, I gripped the handle tightly and pulled hard.

The sharp hook, curved, pierced the cub's throat, the bloody tip emerging from its ear. "Awooo, awooo, awooo," the excruciating pain made it writhe like a fish pulled from the water. The wooden pole it gripped trembled incessantly, like the crank of a heavy machine.

Chapter 145: The piercing

screams of the hungry wolf cubs were so loud they startled Luya awake from her nap in the main hall. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and stood at the cabin door, looking around. "Don't be so reckless next time. Remember to bring your gun. It's alright here, go back to sleep."

The little wolf at the pole, as if caught in a pair of tongs, screamed more and more pitifully, sending chills down one's spine. The howls, like sharp blades, sliced through the night, slicing open the peaceful dreams of the animals on the mountainside.

"Awooo, awooo, awooo..." The howling of wolves in the moonlight, like a summoning horn, rose from the distant crack in the sky above. I looked up sharply, and on the hazy, golden peak, a dark wolf crouched, its mottled, elongated shadow cast on the deck, swaying and bobbing. The wolf's teeth were exceptionally large, and the moonlight, blocked by the light, seemed like clusters of giant aloe vera, fluttering at my feet—like a man-eating troll.

The mother wolf, having lost her cubs, heard the piercing screams and knew her children had met with disaster. Hundreds of meters up the mountain, she couldn't come down immediately. The darkness obscured her sharp eyes, but it couldn't hide her maternal anxiety. Like a blind person perceiving fear through their ears, the pain was compounded.

I hooked the wolf cub and ran quickly towards the ship's main hall to lessen its screams. Seeing the wolf cub's slanted eyes and its gurgling, erratic movements, Luya quickly hid behind the door in fright. The hook, like a blood-stained mop or paintbrush, left crimson marks wherever it passed.

Reaching the stove, they picked up the wolf cub, about the size of a goat, and forcefully pressed it into the water-filled raft. Now, it could only raise its non-breathing rump above the water, while its entire head was submerged by the hook. Less than half a minute later, seeing its struggle weaken, they lifted the raft, stepped on the wolf's tail with their right foot, pulled the hook bar horizontally with their left hand, swung the axe in a wide arc, and brought it down swiftly.

The wolf's head and neck snapped in two with a crisp "crack." If it weren't for the clean, bloody cut, it would have looked like its neck had been brutally severed by a meat hook. Wolf blood, like melting ice water, slowly spread across the floor.

They had intended to give the cub a good whack as soon as they entered, sparing it some suffering before it died, but those sharp fangs could easily bite them; a few cuts wouldn't matter, but they feared catching a cold. The wolf howls outside the large boat were exceptionally mournful and long. Lu Ya said it broke her heart; she knew it was the cub's mother calling.

I drew my dagger and quickly skinned and butchered the wolf cub, separating it into three piles of skin, meat, and bones. I removed the tin sheet used for roasting the mandrill, replaced it with the original one, and started roasting four pieces of wolf leg meat.

"Luya, come roast the meat. Turn it frequently, don't burn it." She responded with an "oh," and slowly approached the grill, her expression dejected. "Girl, wait until the meat is thoroughly cooked before eating, otherwise the parasites will bite your stomach and cause pain." Reminding Luya, I grabbed another sniper rifle and went back to the deck.

"Awooo, awooo... awooo, awooo..." The mother wolf's mournful howls seemed to indicate her cubs were in trouble, and she lingered there. I raised the sniper rifle vertically, trying to see if I could kill the mother wolf. Wolves have a vengeful nature; their howls from the mountaintop would summon wolves from a radius of four or five kilometers, gathering from the depths of the forest like they were participating in a holy war.

The blue sniper scope was very blurry; the moonlight was insufficient for even a sniper's shot. I had no choice but to switch to my AK-47 rifle and aim at the she-wolf. Just as I was about to pull the trigger, I suddenly realized the force of the bullet could potentially damage the rock face

. It was pitch black, and if a brick-sized boulder fell, it could crush a person, not to mention the potential for a massive collapse. Anticipating this terrifying scene, I put away my rifle and resigned myself to fate. The large ship was in turbulent water, and wolves weren't good swimmers; even if there were many, they could only watch from the opposite bank. Well, that's fine too; I can hunt a few of the bigger ones later.

The aroma of roasted meat wafted from the hatch into the hall, filling my nostrils. The excitement of trading gems had subsided considerably, and my stomach began to rumble. I checked the five fishing lines, but there was still no movement, so I grabbed my gun and returned to the hall.

Luya was indeed starving; having grown up in a state of semi-starvation, her biggest fear was not having food. She was using her slender little fingers to pinch off bits of charred meat from the roasting wolf leg, stuffing them into her drooling mouth.

"Don't eat it yet, let me check its doneness." As she spoke, a sharp dagger sliced open the sizzling, oily piece of meat lying on the tin plate, revealing jelly-like blood inside. "Don't rush, this biggest piece is for you. I'll slice it thinly, and you can eat it with a stick."

Luya gave a "whoosh," her face full of eagerness. "If you're weak and a wolf spots you, it won't hesitate to eat you. Don't have any pity when it comes to survival." Reassuring Luya, I sliced the other pieces of meat to ensure they were thoroughly cooked.

The howls grew louder and louder, the wolf pack numbering at least forty or fifty. I went up to the deck again, feeling the five ropes, but still hadn't hooked any prey. The larger creatures underwater had probably burrowed into the crevices to sleep.

I couldn't help but feel a little worried; the fishing wasn't as good as I'd hoped when we exchanged the gems. The prey lurking in this stream wasn't nearly as plentiful as in the forests and rivers. I hoped to catch a big fish by dawn. The wolf meat smelled delicious; Luya ate with gusto, her mouth glistening with oil. Once her stomach was full, her large, blinking eyes began to drowsily drift off to sleep. She lay down on my small blanket while I kept watch and quickly fell asleep. I stoked the fire, warming her comfortably.

I closed the hatch, took the crispy, golden-brown roasted meat, and went into the second floor where the sleeping women were. The corridor was dry and warm; as I approached the sleeping cabins, the sleeping women's bodies emitted a strong scent. Most of them were mature and voluptuous, with unusually active bodies. Without underwear, the air flowing between their legs secretly carried a private fragrance and a hint of sensuality.

Finding Yi Liang fast asleep, I wanted to wake her, but fearing to disturb others, I gently lifted her up, like holding a baby, and placed her beside the fireplace in the hall, sleeping next to Lu Ya. Her long, black hair cascaded from my arms, like the Milky Way in the night sky, a beauty that inspired endless longing.

"Yi Liang, wake up. Eat something before you sleep." Like Lu Ya, she was born into a family with scarce food, yet both girls possessed natural beauty, captivating and charming. The remote and impoverished nameless town had protected their beauty, preventing them from falling into commercialism and becoming playthings of the powerful.

Yi Liang woke up, devoured the lean meat I had deliberately grilled for her, and then, holding the sleeping Lu Ya, went back to sleep. They truly needed rest; exhaustion had afflicted their bodies for the past two days. Back in the second-floor sleeping quarters, I gave each of the twin girls who had been brutally attacked a piece of roasted meat, then stopped busying myself. Clutching my AK-47 rifle, I went back to the hall and squeezed in with the two girls to sleep. Just

as dawn broke, I took my weapon and patrolled the deck, finding nothing amiss. The other four ropes were like trying to fill a basket with water; not only did they fail to hook any prey, but the bait that approached was also bitten off by something. The fishing line at the stern, with its wooden bobber, was nowhere to be seen. I hurriedly pulled on it, but it felt as stiff as an anchor head under a boulder, offering no thrill of pulling up anything alive.

Perhaps a large tree had swept down from upstream and snagged the bait, causing the bobber to sink into the deep water.

Chapter 146: Compromise, Small Pain, Immense Pain

. The ropes and meat hooks were extremely useful when escaping by climbing the mountain walls; it would be a waste to leave them in the water, so I tried to pull them back. The second tug on the rope snapped it into a taut, steel-like line. Unexpectedly, it caused my arms to tremble violently, like a startled elephant struggling to squeeze into a crevice, writhing in discomfort from the pull.

Although I didn't know what it had hooked, the anticipation of waiting all night in vain was instantly replaced by excitement. The first pull had no effect; only the second time did it succumb to the pain, but this struggle exposed itself.

I imagined the creature hooked was a large mammal. With such a sharp hook embedded in its mouth or stomach, the prey knew to endure the pain and feign injury, deceiving the tentacle-like hook into retracting or breaking. If the hook hadn't been pulled back, I would have taken the best possible precaution, using the raft to cut the rope.

The intense pain spurred it into a futile struggle, rendering its feigning ineffective. Given the scarcity of food, having caught and discovered it, it certainly wouldn't let it go.

The stubborn, immense pull of its struggle quickly turned my excitement into fear. The largest animals in freshwater rivers are crocodiles, only three or four meters long. Yet, my violently trembling wrist felt like I was pulling on an elephant walking in the water. I dared not provoke my prey too much; I only wanted to slowly lure it to the surface to get a general idea.

In this primeval forest island, if a Cretaceous Tyrannosaurus Rex still existed, this rope would be a trap, and bullets would be like acupuncture to those world-destroying beasts.

My muscular limbs strained, and I bent my knees, lowering my center of gravity, trying to slowly wrest the rope back, wrapping it around the sturdy platform. The big creature at the bottom of the stream seemed to sense my intention, always pulling the rope back just as I was about to secure it.

Now, I could only see the rope slanting out of the water; I couldn't pinpoint the prey's location. Once its outline appeared on the surface, I would aim my AK-47 rifle at its head, unleash a burst of bullets, and this endless tug-of-war would naturally end.

The sharp hooks must have severely wounded it, and crimson eddies rose from the water like expanding and disappearing roses. Fortunately, this stream wasn't teeming with piranhas; if we had dragged a giant skeleton, not only would our efforts have been in vain, but the suspense of both victory and defeat would have been agonizing.

I wanted to shorten the rope, but the prey vehemently objected; although there was no direct contact, it was incredibly exhausting. A full hour passed before the creature underwater, like a stubborn bride, finally yielded after much coaxing.

The rope we managed to retrieve, like a priceless treasure, was firmly secured to the gun emplacement. I rushed into the hall, woke Luya and Yiliang, grabbed an AK-47 rifle, and prepared for the next part of the hunt.

The soft light of the rising sun evenly filled the dawn, brightening the surroundings; the damp dew condensed on the boat railings, glistening and ready to drip. Luya and Yiliang each took their positions, one holding an AK-47 rifle and the other a sniper rifle. They didn't yet know what was hooked underwater, but they were certain that something this large must be incredibly fleshy.

I slowly pulled back the hook line, forcing the prey to rise from the water out of fear of pain. "Don't be afraid, either of you," I told them. "No matter what it is, no matter how big it is, as long as its head is exposed, keep shooting until the bullets shatter its brain tissue."

The two girls, who initially thought it was a crocodile, became somewhat nervous after hearing my words. I wasn't sure what was underwater either, so I reminded them to be prepared.

Huge ripples of water surged up, and the two dark gun barrels adjusted their positions accordingly, like executioners being shot. "Splash, thud." A tail as big as a broom lashed out of the water first. It was

definitely a large fish; its species was unclear, but its light blackish-orange tail was covered with star-like spots. “Whale.” Luya, her eyes glued to the sniper scope, moved her pretty little mouth. “Shh.” I quickly signaled, be quiet. Even a giant fish can be afraid, just like a human. If we provoked it to triple its strength, the rope might snap.

I stopped pulling the rope, letting the fish rest in the stream for a while. The swirling, murky water grew increasingly dark, and the fish, like a submarine hit by bullets, began to rise weakly. Its four-meter-long, bluish-yellow spotted back, the moment it broke the surface, startled the two girls.

The rope continued to pull slowly, as if getting closer would soothe it. The fish’s head remained submerged, its mouth and eyes hidden, but the back of its head was exposed. “Aim at the fish’s head and spine, fire the most bullets in the shortest time. Fire!”

The words had barely left my lips when the powerful rifle rang out with deafening bangs. The fish couldn’t see our faces; its smooth skull was riddled with bloody holes. The scorching bullets from the Aka rifle blew, causing the grayish-yellow fish skin to burst open in concentric circles, piling up one on top of the other. The bullet holes resembled the blood-red eyes of a furious fish suddenly opening.

The fishing line in my hand, like a bowstring suddenly snapping, sprang from my palm, straightening at its entanglement with the turret, vibrating violently, producing the deepest tremor of a zither, or the buzzing of a bumblebee.

"Bang, bang, bang..." Bullets exploded like a string of firecrackers, exploding rapidly on the fish's head as it instinctively dove underwater. If it hadn't been bullets, but a spear, the line would have broken long ago. Even so, the fish would choose the lesser pain over the greater one, preferring a ripped lip or a discarded jaw to its death.

Bullets, once they hit a vital spot, are the most potent anesthetic for the soul. This fish, though several times larger than a human, couldn't withstand this annihilation-style firing. Its wildly twisting body and thrashing tail created waves over ten meters high, splashing so brightly we couldn't open our eyes.

"Give it to me." The two girls were driven back by the harmless splashes of water. I quickly snatched Yi Liang's AK-47 rifle, crouched down, inserted the muzzle, estimated the fish's head, and continued firing with narrowed eyes. The surging stream water erupted like bursting pipes, splashing painfully. But I knew that only by

shooting the fish's head relentlessly could I stop the spray. I didn't turn around until I ran out of bullets. Lu Ya and Yi Liang's hair was soaked, hanging in clumps from their pink foreheads, and water droplets clung to their fair necks.

The girls' soaked chests revealed the outlines of their small breasts.

Standing next to Yi Liang, Lu Ya appeared slightly less full, but after several days of nourishing herself with fresh meat, she had become much stronger. In three years, when this girl was the same age as Yi Liang, she would surely have grown into a woman with her mother's voluptuous figure, even surpassing Yi Liang in some way.

Watching the two girls grow up safely and healthily every day filled me with indescribable joy. Meanwhile, the large fish at the stern provided us with another month's livelihood.

Chapter 147: Human Skull, White Bone, Flag

After resting for a while, I picked up my Aka rifle, which had been reloaded with live ammunition, and went down to my small raft. The large fish was completely dead, but its species was still uncertain. The rope hooked around the fish's mouth was too heavy to lift; forcing it would only tear its mouth open. Judging from the deck, the prey weighed at least seven or eight hundred pounds.

As soon as the raft approached the fish, the sharp edge of the blade pierced deep into the flesh like cutting tofu. A layer of viscous liquid secreted from the densely spotted, yellowish-brown back to protect the skin. I pulled out my broadsword, scraped off a layer, and rubbed it between my fingers and thumb. This smooth feeling reminded me of the private fluids of Chi Chun's mature beauty. As soon as

this sexual thought flashed through my mind, I immediately became alert. Chi Chun's alluring temptations were like a drug, somewhat addictive to me. Experiencing that solid and thorough entanglement that night was like a spider's thread, tugging at my heart from time to time.

The hook was plunged into the stream, hooked onto the tail of the large fish, and used the buoyancy of the water to lift it to the surface. A rope was thrown from the boat and securely tied to the fish's tail fin. To ensure the rope wouldn't slip when pulled, I used a double-headed spear to pierce a hole under the fish's spine and tied an extra rope.

After getting up, Chi Chun tidied herself up, her beautiful face radiating charm. She cooked the remaining wolf meat into a fragrant porridge. Every woman on the large boat enjoyed a comfortable and hearty meal and began to gather on the deck, preparing to harvest food from the stern.

I found a large wooden stick, and when the fish rose close to the side of the boat, I pried up its heavy body, allowing the women pulling the rope to easily drag it onto the deck. The weight of the prey far exceeded my expectations; the ropes creaked against the railings.

The women worked hard; facing shared food and shared survival, no one wanted to slack off. They pulled like in a tug-of-war, shouting slogans and leaning back with all their might. The clothes worn by these voluptuous women were cut from bed sheets by Chi Chun; short, narrow, and easy to wear, they were no different from hot dresses that barely covered their private parts, exuding sexiness. Several graceful, voluptuous women, due to excessive exertion, had dark red menstrual blood sliding down their snow-white thighs.

It seemed that limited manpower was insufficient to solve the problem. I returned to the engine room, dropped the anchor at the stern, threaded several key tension ropes into the anchor chain holes, and then Lu Ya raised the anchor. With the great help of the engine, we finally got this large, half-floating creature onto the deck.

Each mature woman, busy and sweating profusely, was both alarmed and excited to see the large fish lying before them, as if the interruption of food last night, a kind of panic, had now been cured, and their charming eyes curved into smiles.

The women, their thighs bleeding, immediately realized, after being reminded by their companions, that I had witnessed their adorable little secret when I turned to look at them pulling the rope. Embarrassed, their cheeks flushed, they squeezed their thighs together, swaying their full hips, and ran into the cabin. Finding a secluded corner, they washed themselves while wondering how much the man had seen them.

Women are always so adorable; if a man they admired saw this, he would only feel both shy and delighted. I also suddenly realized that those beautiful eyes, when secretly peeking at my bare chest, held a hint of girlish charm.

The sticky, gooey fish, like a giant mass of jelly, slid a few times on the deck before settling down, trembling. Its mouth was almost as big as a bulldozer shovel; it could devour dwarfs and savages like meatballs, and even normal humans, if they entered the stream and encountered it, would be swallowed whole without distinction.

"A big whale! It's so big, hehe." Luya clapped her hands excitedly, saying things that seemed to come out of nowhere, as if she knew that children's words are innocent and dared to take advantage of any loopholes. "When have you ever seen a whale in a freshwater river?" I was amused by her innocence and could only reach out and press her little head down.

"Or maybe it's a shark, sharks are this big too." She was still stubborn, as always, insisting that she was right. "When you raise the catfish in the bucket to this size, they'll become sharks too, won't they? Look how much they look alike."

I could only tease her, because I myself didn't know what kind of fish this big fish belonged to. If it were shrunk ten thousand times, it would just be a catfish, like a dragonfly or grasshopper, easily eaten when it's stuck on the surface of the river. But suddenly there was such a huge creature, with a giant mouth that could swallow a person without any effort, it could only be called a man-eating catfish. Although I thought so in my heart, I felt that the big fish might live between the ocean and rivers.

Looking at the distant mountain peaks overhead, the sun was probably around ten o'clock. The dwarf savages would be arriving from their tribe for the trade, and it would be past noon by then. Using this time, we used our axes to chop the giant catfish into eighty pieces and then carried them into the hall.

Relying on the heavens for food is no good; the sunlight practically squeezed down the mountain streams. Forget drying food, even a woman's underwear or socks would probably take two or three days to dry. I gave Chi Chun a dagger to help with cutting and roasting the meat. She directed the women, and they began to busy themselves. The busyness was filled with laughter; plenty of food and clothing is the best thing for a woman's heart.

The giant catfish's intestines, wrapped in layers of white, creamy flesh, were multicolored and incredibly foul-smelling. A huge pile of them, larger than the fish's belly, was pulled out. Inside the dissected stomach was a half-digested dwarf savage, covered in a glob of pale, bloody liquid. The savage's face, blackened and purplish-blue from stomach acid, looked as if he had just drunk a mouthful of blood, holding it in his mouth to suppress a laugh, until it spilled from his eyes, nose, and mouth to relieve the pain of not being able to swallow or vomit.

The dwarf savage, suffocated, had a straw rope around his neck, and coincidentally, a dazzling gemstone dangled from its head. However, the gemstone was small, and he seemed like just another ordinary creature in the tribe. He was probably swallowed by a giant catfish while traveling with the logging caravan yesterday.

I cautiously surveyed my surroundings, and seeing no sign of the dwarf savage in the distance, I tied the little savage to a heavy metal object and plunged it into the deep river. If another giant catfish swallowed him, it would depend on the fish's stomach strength.

Although I hadn't killed the savage inside the fish, if the dwarf tribe saw me, the risk of me being accused would be high. They would immediately label me an enemy and shoot me wildly with their short bows, ruining the gemstone exchange.

After noon, I brought the half-cooked mandrill meat onto the deck ahead of time, and climbed the mast several times to look out, hoping to see the dwarf savages' raft fleet appear, while also keeping an eye on the gems. After yesterday's successful exchange, and by deliberately giving them extra food, they should have gotten to know each other, and the possibility of impulsive actions was becoming increasingly smaller.

As I climbed the mast for the last time and looked towards the distant upstream stream, the dwarf raft fleet truly appeared. But an ominous feeling welled up in my heart.

The raft fleet on the stream was three times larger than yesterday, and each raft was also much larger. The most puzzling thing was that they were carrying long poles, using skeletal human skulls as flags.

Chapter 148: A Creepy Crossing

The vast raft fleet, like an army that had traveled thousands of miles to seize land and people, was like an army besieging a city, full of the atmosphere of war. From the moment I saw the dwarf savages, my biggest worry was their barbarity. Once an exchange displeased them, the model of civilization would be abandoned.

Following the mast rope, I quickly slid to the deck and rushed back to the cabin with long, meteoric strides. Luya and Yiliang were mingling among the women, grilling fish. Seeing me pull out heavy weapons from under the cabin stairs, they also realized the danger and ran over to grab their weapons.

The effective range of the short bow was about fifty or sixty meters. The small, mobile fortress made of sheet metal, while providing cover, wasn't foolproof. "Domineering Yama" could keep the attacking dwarf savages pinned down at a distance of two to three hundred meters, while the two girls' submachine guns suppressed any dwarf savages that rushed into the second layer of firing range.

From the earlier reconnaissance, we knew the dwarf tribe had deployed at least a hundred rafts, each carrying about ten people and ample bows and arrows. Their objective wasn't just food; they clearly wanted our large ship.

From the moment we set foot on this primitive, deserted island, carrying the injured Chi Chun and leading the two girls, we'd been living in constant fear. Aside from simple, short daggers and a pitifully small amount of ammunition, we had almost nothing. Night after night, we were on guard against wild beasts, constantly searching for food; our nerves were on the verge of breaking.

Losing this ship, which we'd fought so hard for, would be like peeling off a snail's shell, instantly relegating us to the bottom of the food chain, making us naked, raw meat. The large ship is our lifeline; without this safe haven, the danger would increase a hundredfold.

With forty delicate women, whether venturing into the forest or drifting on the river, we'd likely lose one after only a few steps. It's like the European battlefields of World War II, where a captain's average lifespan was six minutes, while a soldier's life was lost every ten seconds.

The dwarf savages suddenly stopped 500 meters upstream in the stream. Through the sniper scope, I could clearly see the fat chieftain, his index finger pulling the trigger with the force of two oxen—enough to shatter their leader's head beyond repair.

However, the dwarf savages' consciousness was too chaotic, still clinging to the rudimentary tactic of overwhelming numbers, utterly lacking technological understanding and combat prediction. Five boxes of submachine gun ammunition, tens of thousands of rounds in total, were piled between me and the two girls, close to our shoulders.

Fighting the dwarf savages didn't require an AK-47; against these skinny, hairless creatures, a simple piercing attack would be easily fatal.

The preparations were finally complete before the enemy's approach. The two girls' daily practice mainly consisted of shooting birds of prey and ferocious beasts. The dwarf savages, after all, had begun to resemble humans, and watching these ignorant little creatures being shot would naturally cause them conscience unease. Piercing a person's eyes and skull was nothing new to me, but for the two girls, their psychological resilience, like their bodies, was a sacred, unyielding place.

"Don't be soft-hearted. The big ship is ours; they are the invaders. Concentrate our strength and fight to the death; only then will we have the right to continue breathing." The two girls nodded solemnly, their uneasy eyes calming considerably.

The dwarf chieftain's attire was vastly different from yesterday. A fishbone pierced between his two nostrils, and instead of a straw rope around his neck, sharp white wolf teeth stood upright. His entire sandalwood-like black head seemed to emerge from the mouth of a beast.

The rafts stopped, presumably to regroup before the attack. If they didn't charge head-on, but instead scattered like lice into the dense forest on the cliff face, hiding behind branches and foliage to unleash poisoned arrows, things would be disastrous.

Once the fighting began, without a clear view of the enemy's exact location, firearms would be used blindly. Wasting bullets was a minor issue; if they shattered the high cliff face, the impact of falling rocks would be no less powerful than bullets. Especially rocks weighing over a hundred pounds, falling from hundreds of meters down the cliff face, would be like modern artillery shells, cratering the deck and even destroying large ships.

Although there was no snow on the summit, the surrounding mountains could easily create resonance, leading to landslides. If they collapsed, they would either crush us or trap us underneath; rocks are not like soil, even small shovels wouldn't be effective. Moreover, dwarf savages might stand on top, drawing their bows and aiming for our heads.

However, after the dwarf savages assembled, they didn't spread out and disappear into the forest. Their chief, speaking to the dwarf savage who was trading with me for the first time, shouted a few words, and the family of five then approached the large ship alone on a raft.

This puzzled me. The raft formation clearly indicated they were preparing for a tribal war; did they also negotiate before battle? The dwarf family of five slowly approached the stern. If any one of them had assumed a bow-drawing stance and aimed at us, machine gun bullets would have instantly torn these five small creatures to shreds, even reducing the large raft to splinters.

Yet, the dwarf savages' raft, like a leaf adrift on the current, showed no intention of stopping, grazing past the right side of the large ship. The gun barrels, like electronic eyes, followed them, seemingly ready to fire several times.

This raft, seemingly going alone, made no aggressive moves. As it passed, the male dwarf savage looked up at us, perched high on the deck, his dark face gleaming. The gleam in its greyish-white, round eyes revealed a longing from another world, conveying an indescribable sense of remoteness and sorrow. I was even more perplexed; it was so quiet, and we stood before it like mountain walls.

The dwarf savage's raft drifted downstream, showing no sign of any flanking maneuver. "Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!" A family of five's raft disappeared into a bend downstream. From the large rafting group gathered upstream, one of the dwarf savages let out a scream like a startled monkey.

Of course, it was a conscious cry, but I couldn't fathom what these savages, separated from me by millennia, were trying to do. Two more savage rafts drifted down the stream, passing the large boat without uttering a sound, looking up at us.

Like the previous raft, they remained silent until they disappeared into a distant bend, then the rafting group called out a few more times, followed by three more savage rafts, and so on.

We were the last people who wanted conflict. Before confirming an attack from the dwarf savages, firing a gun was absolutely out of the question. They weren't a group of animals that would scatter at the sound of an explosion. This kind of feud, once started, would rage day and night, requiring constant vigilance. And it was far more complex than simply guarding against giant bears or leopards.

The dwarf savage tribe, having survived in such harsh conditions, must possess significant advantages.

Gradually, more and more rafts passed by the large ship. Based on yesterday's exchange, they didn't yet possess arithmetic skills. As long as the food they were given was palatable and not too small, they could easily manage.

Chapter 149: Eyes Behind the Leaves

The last dozen or so rafts, laden with the food exchanged yesterday, passed by the large ship. I suddenly understood, and a sense of dread washed over me. The dwarf savages were indeed preparing for war, but their enemy wasn't us.

The food they had actively exchanged yesterday was actually a resource reserve for their tribal war. Or perhaps, ample food was the very foundation of their war effort. They could sense that their rafts carried attack signals, and when passing the large ship, they communicated with us in an inexplicable way, across time, to avoid a mistaken attack.

The dwarf savages' actions reveal two possibilities. First, they appear primitive and barbaric, yet are quite intelligent, possessing a high level of civilization at their core. Their contact with us is similar to that of two foreigners who cannot speak the same language; despite the barrier to expression, they both acknowledge the commonality of humanity.

The second possibility is that the dwarf savages feared the people on the large ship, which also frightens me. In other words, the large ship had just run aground when it was discovered by the dwarf savages, who then placed sentries in a hidden tree to monitor it.

Seeing Luya easily shoot down the giant mandrill with a sniper rifle, something they dared not attempt, instilled a sense of awe in them. Even our killing of the giant catfish was observed by them.

The family of five savages, carrying what they considered a bountiful amount of small fish, approached to exchange, but it was actually a test. Perhaps a large group of savages were lying in ambush nearby, ready to act at any moment.

They hadn't expected me to give them so much food, leading to their rapid accumulation of resources and the subsequent tribal conquest. The dwarf savages' raft caravan passed by the large ship with a servile and unassuming manner, lacking any of the arrogance of natives, revealing their weakness. Perhaps, like us, they were forced to cower here.

Thinking this, I quickly raised my binoculars and scanned the narrow, treacherous mountainside. Perhaps behind some dense foliage, a pair of dwarf savage eyes were still lurking.

This is remarkably similar to the Ghost Monkey tribe. Last time, we ran along the stream from the mudflats to the shore without any pursuit. But shortly after turning the corner to the side of the valley wall, the Ghost Monkey troop appeared behind us as if emerging from the ground, ready to pounce. This proves they have a habit of planting spies in high places.

It's not a good thing that the dwarf savages have developed a sense of awe towards us. This isn't like a mouse seeing a cat or a hen seeing a weasel—a natural, permanent fear. They might see us as a threat and plot to eliminate us.

Time is of the essence, and the situation is increasingly critical. I must accurately track the dwarf savages' movements; I cannot afford to be careless. If we fall into their primitive trap, we'll be skinned alive and eaten before the Sea Demon even arrives. Not only will we lose the lives and beautiful bodies of a ship full of women, but those alluring gems will also become an unknown treasure.

Back at the ammunition depot, I selected a brand-new Barrett M82A1. It felt a bit greasy in my hand, but for a sniper, it was a comfortable feeling. Slung a sturdy military backpack over my shoulder, filled with four or five hundred rounds of specialized ammunition, and some dried meat, I boarded a raft and docked, then climbed to the summit I'd reached the day before.

High there, shrouded in mist, I could see every movement of the scouting party of the dwarf tribe. If they truly harbored ill intentions and intended to threaten our survival, I would disguise myself at the 2000-meter peak and eliminate the fat chief and his strongmen first. This kind of long-range shooting required not only the highest level of human technology but also a rigorously trained A-level sniper. And I was that kind of person.

To them, shooting these ignorant dwarf savages in this way was like God assassinating them. They wouldn't see the enemy, wouldn't hear the gunfire, only witness their chief and tribesmen suddenly exploding in brains, splattering blood and bone everywhere.

And I, after completing the sniping, would quietly return to the large ship, as if nothing had happened, waiting for their rafts to return, carrying the mutilated corpses of their own kind, their faces filled with sorrow and terror. Perhaps I'll even give them some roasted mandrill meat as a consolation prize.

With this thought in mind, I climbed to the top of the thousand-meter-high rock face. The air up there was unusually humid and hot, unlike the refreshing air I'd felt last time. I swung the grappling hook quickly, like three tendrils of ivy, pulling at my center of gravity, ascending fast yet steadily.

The mother wolf who lost her cubs last night was nowhere to be found. Even if they were hiding somewhere like cunning monkeys, they couldn't stop my advance. Finding out the dwarf savages' movements was becoming increasingly crucial. If their range was close to where the Sea Demon had appeared, then I had no choice but to go all out and exterminate this group of half-humans who had finally evolved to this level.

My ascent wasn't unprotected; on the deck, there were two other Barrett long-range sniper rifles, responsible for my safety. If the wolves were truly driven by revenge, treating me like a hairless monkey and attacking with impunity, I would surely perish under their bullets.

There are certainly more than just wolves attacking in the forest at the summit. I was prepared, carrying an AK-47 and a submachine gun. Although the load was heavy, it meant safety. If my willpower faltered, and I succumbed to momentary comfort, abandoning my defenses, I would pay a heavy price when attacked by the pack, just like life itself.

"Bang, bang." Without even looking, I knew that some wild beasts had defied the odds, struck by sniper bullets the size of a middle finger, plummeting straight down a thousand-meter-deep ravine. When I got back, I could still find meat from those beasts; I could even use it as filling for dumplings.

"Awooo..." That cry chilled me to the bone, making my hands and feet go cold. Luckily, I had three grappling hooks: two for climbing, and one tied around my waist to save my life in case of a fall. Right now, I could hardly free my hands to shoot. Otherwise, I would have aimed at that wolf, half-hidden on the summit, waiting to gnaw at my fingers, and fired a few shots, letting it experience the decadent beauty of being hit.

"Bang, bang." The large ship beneath my feet, looking down, now resembled a small tabletop model. The ring-shaped rock walls of the mountain, like a folded octagonal screen, held the sniper rifle's sound like a balloon, refusing to fall.

Because the wolf was positioned too high, the two girls' sniping skills weren't good enough to reach that distance, so after several shots, they missed the wolf waiting for me. The incredibly destructive bullets did knock down some stone dust and dirt, which scattered into my hair, and a foreign object accidentally fell into my right eye.

I quickly stopped climbing, closed my uncomfortable right eye, and made a fist gesture to the deck below, signaling to stop shooting. My long hair was quite thick, and the gravel, like soft water, kept pouring down, making my neck numb and itchy.

Reaching this height was already incredibly nerve-wracking, and then suddenly half of my vision was blocked, preventing me from clearly seeing the rope and accurately gripping it. The fear of being buried alive flared up in my heart like spilled gasoline meeting a flame.

Chapter 150: The Accompanying Shadow of Death

Pursuing climbing speed relentlessly was indeed risky. Suspended high on the rock face, I gripped the hook rope tightly with both hands, trying to use my feet to step onto a support so I could free one hand to rub my eyes.

My eyeballs kept moving, pushing and shoving the pebbles under my eyelids. My right hand, gripping the rope, raised its thumb and struggled to pry out the foreign object. This made me a little angry; if I didn't reach the summit soon, the dwarf savage's raft would be far behind.

After climbing another twenty or thirty meters, I finally found a protruding rock face, covering the edge of the peak above my head, where the wolf's head was relatively exposed. The two hook ropes were wrapped around my arms. I slowly took off my AK-47 rifle and began looking for an opportunity.

Driven by vengeance, the she-wolf circled the summit, tail drooping, as if anxious for my slow pace. The flesh on her jaws contracted repeatedly, revealing sharp, white teeth, as she hissed at me on the rock face. I knew it was a hatred that wanted to tear me apart. I

aligned the sights of my AK-47 rifle with the muzzle, searching for the wolf's head. I wanted to shoot it off the mountain; only then could I be certain of its death. If I fired and it retreated, there would be many uncertainties.

The she-wolf was large, with thick, bluish-gray fur. She lowered her limbs, tilted her neck forward, and glared at me with bared teeth. But in that instant, my three-point aim caught the she-wolf's jaw. "Bang!" A crisp explosion; the bullet pierced the wolf's mouth, passed through the base of its tongue, and struck its brain. The she-wolf's Adam's apple was severely damaged; she didn't let out a final howl and plummeted off the mountain.

Last night's wolf pack was summoned by it; killing this mother wolf had a significant deterrent effect. From the dense forest overhead came the rustling of fleeing animals. I dared not waste any more time, so I put away my AK-47 and continued climbing.

Reaching the summit, I quickly climbed a large tree. In the lush, verdant forest, winding rivers resembled a network of overpasses. The old dwarf rafts, one after another, appeared and disappeared on the meandering waters.

I carried my Barrett sniper rifle, gripped my AK-47 in my left hand, wary of any sudden beasts, and wielded my machete in my right, hacking at branches blocking my path. Running across the towering mountains felt like treading on the back of a dragon, overlooking the steaming forest and river world. I raced forward, chasing my potential target.

The large ship and the two girls on its deck were nearly two kilometers away from the summit. They could no longer see me, and I could no longer see them. The tall trees that brushed past were like fences rushing past a car window. I was running very fast, which could very well provoke a wild beast to chase and bite me, but I couldn't care less about that now. Tailing was crucial. If the dwarf savages weren't fighting among themselves, then they might be attacking the ghost monkeys.

When I had run about four kilometers, I suddenly noticed something unusual on the opposite summit. In the lush forest, I seemed to see my own shadow, running alongside me. I knew this wasn't a hallucination, and I realized a possibility.

A row of low grass appeared ahead, and I took advantage of it to lower my upper body and run at full speed. In the instant I concealed myself, I used three seconds to switch my Barrett sniper rifle to my hand. Straightening up, I could still see that small dark figure running alongside me in the dense forest out of the corner of my eye, unwilling to be shaken off.

Twenty meters ahead, the trees thinned out. I glanced at the small dark figure on the opposite summit and began to estimate his running speed. I figured he must be an eye planted by the dwarf savage. If I didn't take him out, the news of the dwarf raft team's assassination would leak out. At this parallel distance, about 150 meters, with the trees obstructing the view, I had to hit him the instant he exposed himself; otherwise, the chance of a second shot was slim.

The dwarf savage watching me probably mistook my sniper rifle for a bow and arrow, or a crossbow. He might have seen mandrills shot down, but he couldn't understand that his own life was now seriously within my firing range.

"Bang!" I leaped up, and at the highest point of my jump, I suddenly twisted and turned. The gleaming black barrel of my sniper rifle appeared as if by magic, protruding from my chest. Through the blue scope, a small, furry creature, wielding a long pole, appeared precisely between two trees.

The bullet's impact was like a long nail, piercing his body, the momentum still propelling him violently into the tree to his right. A gaping, dark hole appeared between his ribs, blood gushing out.

The moment my feet touched the ground, I was startled. I hadn't shot the dwarf savage, but the utterly dreaded demon monkey. Before I could switch back to my AK-47, an arrow whizzed past, striking the demon monkey squarely in the head as it slid down a tree. I

never expected there to be another dwarf savage with a bow on the opposite bank. I quickly looked back, checking if I was being followed. To be sure, I stopped periodically after running a short distance, turning back to confirm that my path was clear. That dwarf savage was indeed clever; it knew to be watching us from the other side, otherwise I would have shot it down long ago, mistaking it for a mandrill.

After what I'd just witnessed, I felt I was starting to understand. The demon monkey had detected the dwarf savage's rafts, and at the same time, the dwarf savage monitoring the large ship had also spotted the demon monkey, hence the pursuit and arrows.

That precise arrow just now truly amazed me. Compared to blowguns, the shortbow's range was far superior, and both sides had poisoned their weapons. I severely underestimated the dwarf savages' fighting prowess. Now, I think they're even more terrifying than the ghost monkeys. The only difference is that the dwarf savages aren't bloodthirsty; they've shown glimmers of humanity.

Anticipating this possibility, I ran even faster. The dwarf savage who finished off the dead ghost monkey almost became a victim of my gun. Facing the same enemy—the War Alliance—otherwise, that little dwarf's head would have exploded.

I must catch up with the rafts now to pinpoint the ghost monkey tribe's location, lest the large ships approach them as the tide rises. In any case, I must first help the dwarf savages win before making any further plans.

The dwarf savage watching me had thin, short legs, yet it ran with a high frequency and astonishing speed. When exchanging food, seeing them all looking sickly, I never imagined they were completely different people in wartime. This was probably their secret to survival.

In the distance, the dwarf savages' rafts began to turn into the forest—a place I'd never seen before, like a tributary of a great river leading directly to the back of a large swamp. I needed to reach the opposite peak beforehand to choose a suitable sniping position, in case the two tribes clashed. I would be on the two-thousand-meter high peak, the first to shoot the monkey chieftain and his men.

The dwarf scout was still running alongside me; I didn't know if he was heading to the battlefield or simply tracking me. I hadn't killed him earlier, but now, out of the corner of my eye, I was scanning him, estimating his speed.

I had to reach the opposite peak, but I couldn't predict the dwarf's movements and might mistakenly shoot me. To save time and ensure my own survival, without a third pair of eyes, I had to resort to the ruthless tactic of killing the innocent rather than risking my life.

Chapter 151: The Danger Hidden in the Mist

After running another two hundred meters, a gentle slope appeared on the mountainside. Climbing down from there would save a lot of time. The dwarf savage's courage gradually grew. To keep up with my speed, he moved closer and closer to the edge of the forest.

"Bang." Another sudden stop and turn, and a bronze-colored gun, as thick as a middle finger, leaped from the barrel, clattering and tumbling down the bottomless rock face. The dwarf savage's small head exploded like a dark blue-green pumpkin, splattering scarlet pulp all over the blue-white rocks and green branches.

His body, similar to that of a monkey, couldn't withstand the inertia of the bullet shattering his skull. His headless corpse flew up like a fly caught in the dense forest by a chameleon's sticky tongue.

The dwarf savage's sudden death was not in vain. Even if he had joined his tribe's rafting team, his lethality would have been negligible. My safe arrival at the sniping position would have played a crucial role in their entire tribal war. If this attack severely weakens the demon monkeys, the entire island's food chain will be reversed once again, which is of great significance.

After killing the dwarf savage and putting away my sniper rifle, I quickly removed the grappling hook and began sliding down the rock face. The 1800-meter-high mountain was lush and verdant . With the rope around my waist, I leaned back,

bouncing little by little, changing the grappling hook one by one. After about half an hour, I finally reached the ravine safely. A raging river blocked my way, and I had no tools to cross. Swimming into this muddy broth would likely expose me to countless crocodiles. Even the thick-skinned, large yaks are often torn to pieces by crocodiles during their migrations.

I continued running along the babbling stream, thinking as I went, trying to buy time and find a suitable crossing point. "Boom, boom..." After running another two kilometers, the flat river surface suddenly dipped and sank. A waterfall more than ten meters high appeared before me. The stream was less than half the width of the forest river, and its rapid flow had already exposed the stone steps at the bottom.

I hopped back and forth across the exposed rocks, careful not to let my feet touch the water, even if it meant taking a few extra steps. I gripped my AK-47 rifle and broadsword tightly, ready to pounce on any attacking water monster.

Among the rocks, many mountain trout, as if afraid of falling to their deaths, thrashed about with their eyes wide open and gills flailing, propelling themselves forward with their wildly thrashing tails. If time weren't so pressing, I would have killed a few with my broadsword and taken them back to Chi Chun to feed her more milk and nourish her baby.

After quickly crossing the river, I didn't encounter any large predators. I continued running, searching for a suitable spot to climb. In this kind of place, the trees were all hollowed out, the cliffs curved into the rock face; blindly climbing would likely result in losing my balance halfway up and falling to my death. But

there are always unexpected turns of fortune, places where one can find a way out of a seemingly hopeless situation. The real danger is giving up hope. I ran as fast as I could, seeking nature's bounty. The dwarf savage's rafts should have all turned into the forest; they were no longer visible from the ground, so I had to reach the summit.

After running another three thousand meters, I finally found a rock face that resembled a pregnant woman's protruding belly. This slope was perfect for rapid climbing. I swung my arms left and right, swinging the rope hooks upwards, hooking them onto thick tree trunks, then using my free hands to swing a second, then a third.

This section of rock was indeed easier to climb than the one near the large ship; I practically carried my rifle, pulling myself up with the ropes. As my waist disappeared into the swirling mist, I saw the dwarf rafts; they had changed from a long, serpentine formation to a horizontal line.

This combat formation allowed archers to fire arrows in denser clusters, amplifying their killing power. When I escaped from the cave to the large ship, if I had been pursued by the dwarf savages, the overwhelming barrage of arrows would have turned my back into a hedgehog.

Crouching behind a clump of dense, low-lying grass on the summit, I pulled out my Barrett sniper rifle and began adjusting the scope's focus. The dwarf raft formation, though loose, advanced slowly. I couldn't see the ghost monkey tribe through the scope. I adjusted the observation distance further, but still found no signs of an impending battle.

However, one thing couldn't be ignored: the ghost monkey tribe had a habit of placing eyes in high places. I quietly withdrew my sniper rifle and continued running along the summit, trying to spot the ghost monkey tribe as quickly as possible. The round, setting sun seemed almost within reach. Its blood-red hue, like a basin of blood held in the sky, prepared to splash color on the primitive tribal battle.

The dense foliage rubbed against my shoulders, rustling like a rattlesnake's warning. I kept a low profile and ran quickly, covering another two kilometers. Standing behind a high rock on the summit, I parted the thin blades of grass. The scene visible through the sniper scope was beyond my expectations.

At the end of the branching river, a large lake appeared, almost invisible unless you stood right beneath your feet; it lay just beyond the vast swamp. The dense trees surrounding the lake were laden with giant katydid nests, identical to those of the basin mountains.

The ghost monkeys lived in the same way as the dwarf savages. Or perhaps, the ghost monkeys had stolen their home. These two highly evolved primates, apart from differences in body hair, were almost identical in appearance. Their ancestors likely belonged to the same lineage, their mutations possibly caused by differences in habitat and diet.

No life form can truly tolerate life forms different from itself. I used a broadsword to cut some slender, soft grass, laying it out at my prone firing position. I gathered some stones, stacked them to form a sniper rifle stand, and inserted cut branches on either side, beginning to precisely adjust the range.

The dwarfs' column was about to approach the lake, but the ghost monkey nests in the surrounding trees swayed in the wind like giant straw lanterns, a desolate and pitiful sight. The thousands of ghost monkeys that had stormed the large ship all died on the deck that night. If the dwarf savages were to detect this reduction in troop numbers, it would be an excellent opportunity to eliminate dissidents. The treasure chest falling into their hands would also become a possibility.

The dwarf rafts, heavily armed, moved into the center of the lake. They drew their shortbows, poised and ready to fire, their expressions tense. I raised my eye, which was pressed against my sniper scope, blinked a few times, then pressed it back against the scope. Observation was crucial at this moment. The scout monkey hadn't relayed the information about the dwarf attack, yet the monkey tribe was deserted, clearly indicating either escape or a concealed ambush.

Suddenly, a large number of wooden stakes floated on the river where the dwarf rafts had just assembled. I adjusted my focus sharply to get a clearer view. The monkeys were indeed not to be underestimated; they had actually employed an encirclement tactic, appearing behind the dwarf rafts.

Each of the ambush monkeys resembled a surfboard, a weapon made of four or five thick logs, each a meter long, bound together. Though small in size, they could scatter and gather like sparrows, adapting flexibly to the needs of battle.

The mist swirling over the river, shrouded in the reddish twilight, appeared even more mesmerizing, concealing the group of monkeys, like children crouching on toy cars, stealthily approaching the frightening creatures.

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